


Toads and Frogs Are Not the Same

by dhwty_writes



Series: Geraskier One-Shots [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Poetry, Sparring, Swimming, Tumblr Prompt, but in a funny way!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhwty_writes/pseuds/dhwty_writes
Summary: "You wrote two fucking sonnets because I can't catch a bloody toad!" he barked and dunked him again. This time he landed a vicious kick into the hollow of his knee that made the witcher grunt as his legs buckled beneath him."Bastard bard...," he grunted and hauled him up.Jaskier grinned widely. "Witless witcher," he countered and dealt a blow that Geralt had taught him. Roach let out a judgemental snort and moments later Jaskier discovered why: The punch had been a severe miscalculation, for Geralt saw it coming. He deflected his punch and before he even knew what was happening, he fell face first into the mud. "Elgh, Geralt, that's disgusting!"Geralt and Jaskier are sent on a contract: to catch a toad. Who knew such a tiny creature could best a witcher, a bard, and a horse?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Triss Merigold
Series: Geraskier One-Shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931821
Comments: 20
Kudos: 137





	Toads and Frogs Are Not the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Prompt: toads. Just toads.
> 
> Guys, I had a field trip with this. There's two horrible poems, friendly dunking and wrestling, and two grown men running after a single toad while trying not to laugh too hard. Have fun!

"Gracious gods, Geralt, did you really  _ have _ to take this contract?" Jaskier complained loudly and wiped his grimy hand on his breeches. 

"Hm," the witcher grunted very unhelpfully and ducked down into the reed again. 

"I mean, reall- eww," he tried to wipe his hair from his forehead and managed to smear mucky pond water all over it. "'Collect some toad toes', what kind of contract  _ is _ that? And why in Melitele's cursed name do you need a  _ witcher _ for it?"

"Told you, Jaskier," Geralt muttered and he could hear the tell-tale sign of two empty hands clapping together. "It's for a friend."

"Some kind of friend that is..."

He groaned and stood upright again. "Have you caught anything yet?"

"Of course not," Jaskier huffed and waded over to him. At least the way the mud squelched between his toes felt nice. 

" _ A toady monster shall be slain,  _

_ But how can I praise prettily  _

_ That venerable victory, _

_ If the white wolf cannot stake his claim? _ " 

He slung an arm around his shoulders and revelled in the sight of Geralt staring at him intently. 

" _ For I am but a humble bard,  _

_ Who, when he woke with a start  _

_ This morning, didn't think he would depart  _

_ With this stunning piece of art- _ " 

"What?!" Geralt snapped and Jaskier had a hard time not to double over laughing.

" _ -who lives up to ev'ry ounce of his fame, _

_ That I have equipped him with, _

_ The man, the witcher, the myth,  _

_ Geralt of Rivia is his name! _

_ But if you bet on him, go to your broker, _

_ He can't catch a measly croaker. _ ”

Geralt growled menacingly. 

"You don't like it?" Jaskier frowned. "Alright, let me start over.

_ Though he's surely not a savage beast,  _

_ He pried me from a lover's side,  _

_ To go for a different kind of ride.  _

_ And I swear there was a growl at least. _

_ He led me into the forest deep,  _

_ To a pond that stank to the skies,  _

_ Where we were attacked by vicious flies, _

_ Far away from any town or keep. _

_ There he said to me:  _

_ "Get right into the fray, _

_ On this superb sunny summer day,  _

_ Forget the bed where you could still be, _

_ Forget the adventure on the roads, _

_ And collect some fucking toads. _ "

Geralt glowered darkly and Jaskier smiled brightly. "What," he growled quietly, "the  _ fuck _ ?!"

Now he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. "Oh, my dear witcher, the look on your face! If you could just see yourself, you-"

"Bard," he rumbled, "you're treading on very thin ice."

"-I mean, what was it that brought your mind to a screeching halt? The alliterations? The  _ rhymes _ ? I think I crafted those two sonnets just  _ marvelousl _ \- fuck!" 

He had scarcely any chance to react before Geralt wrapped both of his arms tightly around his waist and tackled him into the water.

He thrashed around wildly, kicked and scratched and bit, and even tried to scream, although he wasn't very successful, just to pull Geralt down into the water with him. 

They were still scrambling at each other when they resurfaced, Geralt attempting a chokehold and Jaskier pulling at his hair. "Fuck!" he howled, soaking wet and fuming. "Geralt, you brute, you ruined my new shirt!"

"You wrote two fucking sonnets because I can't catch a bloody toad!" he barked and dunked him again. This time he landed a vicious kick into the hollow of his knee that made the witcher grunt as his legs buckled beneath him.

"Bastard bard...," he grunted and hauled him up.

Jaskier grinned widely. "Witless witcher," he countered and dealt a blow that Geralt had taught him. Roach let out a judgemental snort and moments later Jaskier discovered why: The punch had been a severe miscalculation, for Geralt saw it coming. He deflected his punch and before he even knew what was happening, he fell face first into the mud. "Elgh, Geralt, that's disgusting!" he complained and struggled to get to his feet. 

He rose up to shaky knees, but Geralt was on him again, smearing the muck into his hair. "Do you yield?" he asked and rubbed it in deeper. "Do you yield already, Jaskier?"

"I don't, I don't!" he screeched and Roached moved as far away from them as the lead rope let her. "Big bloody bastard man, get off me so, I can repay you, you- Geralt!"

The witcher laughed and attempted to push him into the mud again. "What? D'you want more?"

"No, look! Toad!"

And there it was, mere inches from their faces, staring at them with large eyes. It croaked quietly.

"Get it!" Jaskier screamed. "Fucking get it!"

He didn't need to, for Geralt was lunging already, hands outstretched. With a deafening  _ SPLASH _ he landed in the mud, the wet squelching sound soon drowned out by Geralt's laughter.

"It's getting away!" He scrambled to his feet, slipping and sputtering, dashing after the small animal. "Fuck, Geralt, keep up, it's getting away!"

"I'm coming," he assured him, still fighting the giggles, but sprinting after the toad all the same. "There it goes!"

"Where, where?" Jaskier skidded to a halt and landed on his butt again. "Bollocks, I've missed it!"

Geralt ran further ahead, trying to reach down a few times, but evidently missing. 

Jaskier tried to stand up again, hindered by the peals of laughter that bubbled out of his mouth when he watched the six-foot-two-hundred-pound witcher try to scoop up a single toad, completely unaware of his surroundings. "Watch out!" he wanted to shout, but before he even completed the sentence, Geralt had already noisily collided with a tree.

He groaned quietly, rubbing at his shoulders. "Fuck," he muttered and Jaskier had to sit down again, holding his aching belly.

"Geralt, please," he wheezed, "I can't take it-"

"Jaskier!" he bellowed. "It's coming your way!"

"Fuck!" He was right, there it was hopping towards him. He bit down hard on his lip, to keep from laughing and gathered the last bit of his strength to throw himself at the beast, effectively squashing it beneath him. "I've got it!" he cried triumphantly. "Geralt, I've got i- yuck, it's  _ slimy _ ,  _ Geralt _ , come, quick, it's icky!"

"I'm here, I'm here," the witcher assured him and crouched down beside him. "Where is it?"

"Nooo,  _ eww _ , it's trying to squeeze into my shirt! I don't want it on my skin, I don't want it, Geralt, help!"

"Where is it, where?" he asked again, squeezing his hands beneath Jaskier's upper body in search of the nasty little fiend.

"On the left, higher, no,  _ higher; _ are you  _ groping _ me, you bastard? Stop that, get this thing off me first!"

"I've got it!"

"Good," Jaskier sighed with relief, "now get off me."

"Can't. I've got it in both my hands and you're spread-eagled on them."

"I'm very much not," he huffed, but wriggled out of his arms nevertheless. Not without using Geralt's forehead as leverage for his foot while pushing away, of course. "Spread-eagled," he muttered. "As if I ever did such a thing..." He got to his feet, dusting off his pants in habit. The only thing it managed was smearing the mud further. "Gross," he muttered. "What now, Geralt?"

"I'm supposed to only bring the toes," Geralt said with a grimace.

"Pfft. Your 'friend' can cut them off themself, if they insist on it. I'm not touching that thing ever again. It's far too well acquainted with my body already."

"Hmm. We still have to transport it there somehow." He looked around the small clearing. They had rid themselves of armour, doublets and boots before wading into the water and left them with Roach, who was staring at them disapprovingly. Jaskier's lute was with her, too, and-

"Ohh, no!" he declared loudly and backed up. "No, no, no, no, no! I won't, Geralt."

"Come on," he taunted, "do it for a friend."

"A friend?! Oh,  _ now _ we're friends! Yeah, that sounds convenient!"

"Jaskier..."

"No, Geralt, you can't ask that of me. That's beyond cruel, even for you, and-"

"We have to put it somewhere, Jaskier. We don't have anything else where it might fit."

"No, and that's my last word."

"Fine," he growled and folded his legs beneath him, "I'll take you to Oxenfurt for the Bardic Festival this year."

He narrowed his eyes at him. "Keep talking."

"If you win all your celebratory indulgences are on me." 

He raised his eyebrows.

Geralt sighed heavily. "And if you lose to Valdo Marx, I'll help you pelt him with rotten fruit when he goes to accept his prize."

Jaskier beamed at him. "I love to do business with you, Geralt!" He sauntered over to Roach and untied his lute case from her saddle. Gently he took out his priced instrument and wrapped it in his doublet — that was clean, at least — and approached Geralt with his newly empty lute case. "I swear to every god out there, if it shits into my lute case, I'll rip you a new one."

"Hmm," he answered and lowered his hands into it. "Quick, close it!" he hissed. He pulled his hands out, the lid snapped shut and they both threw themselves onto it to keep it that way.

Together they closed the buckles and only when Geralt had inspected them they dared to breathe a sigh of relief.

" _ Fuck _ ," Jaskier muttered emphatically, sinking to the muddy ground next to Geralt. 

" _ Hmm _ ," he agreed.

He cautiously eyed the brackish water: "I need a  _ bath _ ."

"Not here," Geralt grunted and struggled to his feet. "We'll get a warm one once we deliver that fucking beast." Jaskier took the offered hand and reluctantly put on his boots again. 

With his toad-infested lute case slung over his shoulder and the lute cradled in his arms he fell into step next to Geralt. He delighted in the smiles and japes he could pry out of his usually taciturn friend. 

Entertained like that the way to the remote tower in the middle of fucking nowhere didn't seem quite as bad as before. Once they got there, he almost wasn't angry anymore. 

They knocked and were quickly ushered in once Geralt gave his name and the name of the witch that lived there — one Triss Merigold. The servant took one look at them before leading them to a room with a sizable bath in the middle.

"Oh, fun!" Jaskier said. "Someone's got manners."

Geralt snorted and crossed his arms. "He's saying you stink."

"Pffft, pish posh. As if you smell any better, you-"

Unfortunately, their banter was cut short when the door opened and a beautiful woman with dark curls entered. "Geralt," she said with a smile, "you've brought a friend- what on earth happened to you?"

"Jaskier the Bard," he answered and bowed with a flourish, "at your service, Madam." He produced the lute case and held it out with a wide grin. "We've retrieved your toad. Slipped in a bit of mud in the process."

The sincere smile on her face faltered, reduced to a confused, albeit polite one. "My... toad?"

"Toad toes," Geralt ground out, "what you wanted."

And then, the miracle that made sure Jaskier would never forget that day occurred: a sorceress was stunned speechless before his very eyes. "Toad toes," she repeated slowly. "That's what you got me?"

"Yes."

"Well, not quite," Jaskier cut in. "It seemed a bit cruel to rid the poor thing of his toes, truth be told. So, we procured the whole animal. If you'd be so kind to relieve us of it? I'd like my lute case back, thank you very much."

"Geralt..." A grin tugged at the edge of her mouth. "You're no stupid man. What exactly did I tell you to retrieve?"

He frowned deeply. "Toe of frog."

"Is that a problem?" Jaskier asked without lowering the case. "Come on, that can't be a problem! Toad, frog, that's practically the same thi- wait a minute. What did you just say?"

"Toe of frog," he repeated, obviously very confused.

" _ Toe of frog _ ? No, Geralt, please tell me this isn't happening."

"What?"

"Toe of frog," Triss supplied helpfully, "is a flower. Not an animal. Buttercups, to be precise." She giggled quietly and took the lute case. "Don't worry. I'll clean it. You two go on and clean yourselves. Dinner's in three hours, you can try again tomorrow." With that she left the room, a sly smile on her lips. 

"Oh, I can't believe it," Jaskier groaned. "All of that for nothing? Couldn't you have asked her what she wanted toe of frog for? Couldn't you have told me? I would've known! But no, instead you say 'fucking toad feet'. Those are not the same, Geralt!"

He still stared after her. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Unbelievable!" he threw his hands up. "I want a bath,  _ now _ . So, out with you." He walked over to the large tub and tugged the shirt over his head. 

"Hm." 

He turned and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"What you said earlier... Technically, I got the toad off you."

Jaskier prided himself on being a man who had travelled wide and far, and seen enough of the world that nothing short of the impossible could shock him. So, he wasn't ashamed to say his jaw dropped when he heard that. "Are you serious?" he spluttered.

"You're the one who said I could grope him if I got that thing off him."

"Geralt of Rivia," a wide grin spread on his face, "you  _ impossible _ man."

He grinned, too, and pulled him closer by the hips. "Is that a yes?"

"'Is that a yes?'" he mocked him affectionately. "'Is that a yes?' asks the man who insulted my poetry, dunked me under water, slammed me into mud and smeared it all over my hair, made me chase after a toad,  _ and _ , if that wasn't enough, made me carry said slimy, despicable animal in my beloved lute case. All in the span of one afternoon!"

"Mhm. Sounds like a horrible person." 

"The worst." He sighed and slung his arms around his neck. "He also happens to be my best friend, who I love very much and  _ who I am very angry at _ , at the moment."

"And what do you propose we do about that?"

"Kiss me," he ordered, " _ clean _ me, and take me to bed."

Geralt grinned. "That I can do." He bowed down and kissed him very gently on the lips. He wanted to pull away again, so Jaskier whined and tightened his grip. Geralt chuckled and deepened the kiss, drawing delicious little moans and gasps from Jaskier's lips and even a quiet squeal when he simply picked him up and began crossing the room. It was everything his fantasies had promised to be, sweet, heated, and pas-

All of the sudden the world dropped out beneath him. Jaskier had barely time to shout before he hit the water once again and the bottom of the tub shortly after. It took him significantly less time to resurface, though. " _ Geralt _ of  _ Rivia _ !" he bellowed indignantly, wiping water and softened mud from his face.

The witcher only laughed and stripped to join him in the bath. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Send me some prompts!](https://dhwty-writes.tumblr.com/ask)


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